Operation: ARK
by Molten-Ashes
Summary: Sometimes, the past just doesn't stay dead...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!

Please R&R!

(I do believe this is my first dive into TF:A, this particular plot bunny has been sitting on my computer for nearly a year now... Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!)

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><p>The Lord Mirage sighed with a weary air as his servants finished buffing his shoulder strut that had become scratched during his recharge, waving forward the other femme that approached with a sweeping metallic cloak gilded with the fine mineral that humans would have called Gold, clipping it to the sides of his plating near his neck cabling.<p>

"What are my duties for the orn?" he asked the formal looking servant mech that fidgeted near the enterance to the room as he scrolled down the data-pad that held the Noble mechs appointments for the whole vorn.

"You have an appointment with the Council reviewing the specialised weapons branch your company manages." The bot listed as Mirage's berthroom emptied of the servants that attended him, "And a package, grievously old and slightly worn, has arrived addressed to you from a mech named…" a pause as the mech hurriedly checked the name. "Meister."

The deep blue and pearl white mech froze as he went to his berth side table to slide his less important work into the drawer and lock it.

"Good," he said noted to himself before turning to the dull burgundy servant mech. "Cancel my appointment with the council and have the package delivered to my personal office this instant."

"Yes, my Lord." The mech bowed before scurrying from the room, off to do his payer's bidding.

The Noble shed his fine cloak, specially picked out for his appointment, the fine metal material crumpling to the ground in a depressing pile the lithe mech paid no attention to as he swept out of his berthroom and entered his bland but grand office which was conveniently next door, the ceiling to floor windows looking over the Tower's gardens of Crystals and mineral trees, letting in the bright artificial light of Cybertron.

The package was waiting for him, delivered with an urgency that had met his tone to the servant that bowed out as he entered.

"You disappear for vorns and then you send me this." Mirage grumbled, pressing the automatic release, pausing in surprise as he identified a simple data-note sticking to the fancy metal box addressed to a mech named 'Jazz'.

He swiped the note from the box with a frown, examining the specific make of data-note that had only been used during the wars for a quick easy transfer of destroyable orders among the Special Operations mechs.

"Mirage," he read aloud to the sound proofed office, the silence of his retreat split by his cultured tones, "You once served under me during the Great War as my direct subordinate and one of my closest friends and confidants.

This has been sent to you because I cannot be there to give this in person to my sparkling Jazz, who you may recall I had during the last few decacycles of war. The gift is to be given to my mechling when he is a fully fledged Autobot."

Mirage paused in his reading, moving to his terminal, the keyboard flicking out of the desk in a flurry of shifting parts and rising screen. His pointed fingers swept over the board as he searched, his golden optics often flickering to a single large long photo that stretched across his far wall.

The picture in question, sitting silently on the far wall, was one of a ship's crew, mechs grinning or posing at the camera as they gathered for the photo in front of a giant orange ship. He himself was standing with a green plated mech that was trying to get him to smile, both of them directly in front of a silver mech leaning on a stoic black and white Praxian, a cheeky grin on the silver mech's faceplate.

The terminal broke his reverie as it revealed the efforts of its speedy search with a shrill chirp.

"Jazz, elite guard ninja, works under Sentinel Prime." Mirage read the biography of the young black and white mech smiling a thin smile after quickly gaining authorisation for the Ninja's files. "I see everything is in order." The Noble looked back at the note, frowning as he read the next hastily scribbled scrawl of his once superior in the Special Operations division. Meister had obviously been in a hurry.

"I didn't want to drag him into this, but I don't have much time. This package, it's the key. I also regretfully add these words before I disappear.

Operation: ARK."

Golden optics widened, the finished note falling from his servo to the floor as the Noble Mech stumbled back as if he had been burned, almost forgotten battle programming onlining with a snap as he pressed the heel of his palm to his forehelm, the screams of battle echoing in his once perfect silence as a servant entered with energon tea.

"Sir? Lord Mirage?" the servant asked curiously, worry colouring his tone as he crossed the grand barren office and slid the tray onto the desk, ornate crystal cube glittering in the light of Cybertron as the Noble Mech waved off the help straightening with his amber optics blazing like two miniature stars.

"Get this package to Designation Jazz of the Elite Guard." Mirage said lowly as he pointed to the box sitting innocently on his desk. _It may be the key to saving us all…_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!

Please R&R!

(The next chapter for your reading pleasure! Enjoy!)

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><p><em><strong>===Earth's Moon=Nemesis===<strong>_

"I grow tired of your resistance Autobot." The large mech rumbled ominously from behind a lithe silver mech strapped to an interrogation chair, the mech restrained to the innocent looking seat watching the earth and stars out of the crashed Nemesis' window, ignoring the looming shadow that darkened the already depressing room.

"And I grow tired of seeing your faceplate Megsy." The mech replied casually as his dark tormentor stalked to stand in front of his view of the human's planet, ruby optics, blood thirsty and slightly crazed gazing down on him with a furious flare.

"It has been so very long, Meister." The giant snarled with a malicious grin down upon the smaller silver mech that had to look up at him to display his annoyance at the Decepticon War Lord. "The Autobots will not come for you; they believe you to be deactivated, rusting in the pit along with the others of your… profession."

"So tell me Megatron," the saboteur he had held prisoner for so long in the ships brig, that had somehow survived its fatal crash spoke, a rough edge to his deep voice. "Why am I still functioning?"

"Those codes are the things I want out of your processor." The tyrant replied prodding the restrained mech on the centre of his helm, between the rows of three sharp helm horns on either side. "And I know you Autobot Saboteurs. You'll delete everything in your minds as you die, leaving nothing but a… useless shell."

"Seems you finally caught on." The dull silver mech chuckled in reply as he was suddenly grabbed by the chin and his helm lifted uncomfortably high to look into the giant faceplates of the Decepticon War Lord Megatron, the tyrant leaning uncomfortably close into Meister's personal space.

"How long has it been?" the giant mech suddenly asked quietly, optics set in a cruel flare that made the captive stiffen in the chair, four fingered servos sliding into a death grip on the chair rests his forearms were belted to. "How long has it been since you last saw, or heard your mate?"

"You have no right to speak of him!" the once shining silver mech suddenly shouted, putting up a valiant struggle in his binds, heavy cybertanium chains rattling and skittering on the floor as the Decepticon stepped back to watch the furious Autobot with a pleased air.

"Maybe. But all you need to do is give me those codes, saboteur, and we can both walk away happy." Megatron said casually examining his talons as the mech known as Meister settled back into the chair with a dark hiss of his vocaliser at the much larger mech.

"I stand by my Prime's last orders." Meister said sharply "I stand by your brother. Not you."

The giant walking Autobot slayer snarled flexing his fingers as if to strangle the stubborn mech before him, before cooling and soothing his angry, twisted faceplate into a calm black slate. "Very well, Meister. Let us return to this discussion next orn. You cannot resist me forever." He said spitting the Autobot saboteur's designation as if it were acid in his oral cavity, his fanged denta bared in a primal threat as he turned on his pede and stormed towards the door which hastily opened in his path, leaving the captured saboteur, so far from home, to gaze at the foreign stars.

_**===Cybertron=Iacon=Residential District=== **_

Jazz gave a grumbling sigh as he had to once again force open the squeaky door to his apartment, the door reeling shut with a grudging shrill creek of metal on metal as he slipped into the dusty hall.

"I really need to fix that blasted door." He grouched tossing the keycard into a crystal bowl on the entrance hall's single shelf. The flat grey card chiming as it hit the blue and ruby rim and sides. He really needed to dust too. Having a job at the Elite Guard, helping to pilot the Steelhaven and protect the Magnus gave him so little time at his home.

He trudged into the living quarter of his flat, flopping onto the sofa in front of the sound system he had opted for, rather than the standard holo-television. "Play messages," he called to the silent flat that had lit up at his entrance, the energon dispenser in the kitchenette set on an elaborate timer to pour his energon whenever he entered the apartment that had once belonged to his carrier.

The holo recorder flicked on, an automated voice droning that he had one message; however it had been unable to trace the call that played out into the room, the soft cultured tones of a noble Mech gracing his sensitive audios.

"Greetings Jazz, I am an old work college of your Carrier's. Upon his disappearance I eventually received a package from him. It will be delivered to you post haste." With that the message cut off, making Jazz peer over the couch back with a frown at the recorder.

"Mech clearly doesn't know about ma Carrier and Sire being deactivated." Jazz sighed shaking his helm, "Disappearance?" He sceptically snorted rolling off the couch to retrieve his poured energon. "Mech, I was at the memorial."

A swift series of knocks had him nearly jumping out of his plating, before turning to incredulously stare at the door. No-one should know he was home, only his neighbours. He hadn't even called his brothers yet!

He stomped over to the door, mentally preparing to tell Sentinel to 'frag off' if it was his superior, it was his designated decacycle off slag it! The door screeched open making him wince as a flighty courier bot gave a startled cry from the corridor as he managed to force it open the rest of the way with a sheepish apology.

"Package." The Mailbot said stiffly clearly still embarrassed about his outburst, "From the Lord Mirage."

"I ain't expecting any package." Jazz said frowning crossing his arms over his chest plates as the bot tried to hand over the box he was holding.

"Look." The mailbot said with a glare "I got paid double to do this, it was supposed to be coming next orn, but the Lord's servant was adamant that you had to have it."

"Fine, fine." Jazz sighed taking the box and signing for it before the Mailbot jogged back down the hall grumbling under his vocaliser.

The black and white ninja bot stared at the square package, nearly dropping it when he recognised his Carrier's precise curving scrawl that spelt out his designation.

_**===Cybertron= The Towers= Mirage's Office===**_

"Did he receive it?" Mirage asked as the servant returned with his afternoon energon, the dark blue and white noble standing gazing over the crystal gardens that were directly below his office.

"Yes, sir." The burgundy servant replied with a swift nod as his Lord took a sip of his heated energon.

"Good. It's all falling into place." Mirage said as his servant left him alone to his ponderings, before the respected noble wandered back over to his terminal, fingers snapping over keys as he sat down.

The screen buzzed and flickered with static before a red and white bot came onto the screen, peering at him with suspicion and a tilt to a horned helm, the audio horns crackling startled neon blue as the mech recognised Mirage.

"Mirage." The bot said wearily with a suspicious glare. "What business do you have calling me?"

"Red Alert." The noble replied with a charming, if not slightly cold smile. "Operation: ARK is hereby in effect…"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!

Please R&R

(Enjoy! I'm glad you're all liking it so far!)

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><p><em><strong>===Cybertron= Outskirts of Iacon= Energon Refinery=== <strong>_

_**==Red Alert==**_

"Red Alert. A call is waiting for you in your office sir." A young receptionist bot hailed through a communication link, interrupting the mech that was currently chewing out his apprentice for falling into recharge on the job.

The red and white Security Director of the Energon Distillery frowned at the call that had been channelled through to his terminal. It was an untraceable call, which immediately set alarm bells ringing in his processors as he shooed out his apprentice to have some privacy, vowing to pick up his rant at the young femme apprentice later.

He slouched into his chair by the bank of monitors, tapping the receive button. The screen grumbled with bad reception, static flickering through as it fought to stabilise the line. He narrowed his optics to squint at the mech appearing on his monitor, punching through a series of keys on his board that led to the signal clearing, revealing an ancient friend who hadn't seen since the Great War.

"Mirage." He said tilting his helm glowering with suspicion, his horns crackling neon blue as his processors threw up paranoid reasons as to why the Noble Mech would be contacting him. "What business do you have calling me?"

"Red Alert." The dark blue and white Noble smiled almost coldly at him, leaning back in an ornate office chair that was clearly very expensive, the Security Director mentally rolling his optics of the unintentional show of wealth by his old comrade. "Operation: ARK is hereby in effect…"

The old Security Director's optics brightened as the words flowed into his audios, the phrase acting as a hidden trigger, onlining his old battle programming with a jolt that had his audio horns literally crackling with neon electricity. The red and white mech gasped, leaning forward as he gripped the desk, trying to figure out his bearings as Mirage watched him stoically through the feed.

"We agreed it would never be used unless we found the codes." Red Alert winced, heaving himself back upright as every security breach he had witnessed since he had turned off his battle programme code all those vorns ago, was examined and cross-referenced by his wartime codes. "Frag it Mirage, we don't even know where _they_ are!"

"Meister has reappeared out of the figurative woodwork of obscurity." Mirage replied leaning elbow joints on his desk and steepled his fingers, tapping the tips against his lip plates. "A note was attached to a package for me for his youngest offspring Jazz. Meister still functions and he has found something. Something that made him trigger Operation: ARK."

"Did you open the package?" the security bot asked, fingers tightening on the desk as if in anticipation.

"Negative." Mirage replied blandly, reaching for his own keyboard to press a key that brought up an image capture of the mysterious box that Meister had sent to him, that had been traced back to sitting in the Postal Central hub for nearly forty vorns. "As you can see, it requires Jazz to open it personally; it's covered in mechblood identification sensors. Meister obviously wanted nobody except those he could trust getting in."

"A lightweight Cybertanium box reinforced with Praxian crystal between fibre layers." Red Alert said with a frown, "Meister obviously wasn't kidding around. You'd need at least a few blasts with a fusion cannon to even scratch it."

The Noble nodded "I've had the package delivered to Jazz. I've got a tracer on it, anywhere Meister's gift goes. We'll know about it."

"Have you contacted the others?" Red Alert asked rubbing his forehelm as if to warn off a developing helmache.

"No, But I want the word out." Mirage said, narrowing his optics looking up and away as there was a knock on his end of the communication feed. "After so long… we may actually see them again…"

With that the connection was cut, leaving Red Alert to lean back in his chair, wondering if the whole conversation was actually real. His thoughts were broken as his apprentice let herself back into the Security Room, sheepishly edging her way to her own desk with another yield of monitors.

"Keep watch on the monitors." Red Alert ordered as he swept from the room, "I'll be back in a few breems."

"Yes, sir." She said meekly, not noticing as her superior slipped into the shadows of a corridor of the refinery, scrolling through all of his ancient contact numbers, sending out an old comrade wide message to those still in the land of the functioning.

"Operation: ARK online."

_**===Cybertron= Iacon=Residential District=== **_

_**==Jazz==**_

Jazz frowned at the ornate box in his servos, tilting it to the side and back again hearing nothing slide back and forth within as the light of the corridor glinted and slid off of the box's edges and planes. With a puzzled shrug he retreated back into his apartment, tossing the box onto the couch as he returned to the kitchenette to get himself another cube of energon.

"Thanks for the cryptic gift Carrier." Jazz grumbled as he fetched an empty cube and slid it under the dispenser, giving a yelp as he grazed his knuckle joints on a sharp unshorn end of the old dispenser that really needed replacing. "Frag it." The black and white ninja cursed withdrawing his servo and waving it as if to shake off the pain, droplets of mechblood flying from the superficial wound over the counter and into his living area.

He brought his servo to his mouth plates sucking on the wound to clear it of anything that might have gotten caught in the graze, not aware of the spots of mechblood that had hit the box on his couch that was starting to glow and peel back its lid in soft hisses of shifting, transforming metal…

_**===Earth=Downtown Detroit=Autobot Base=== **_

_**==Ratchet==**_

Ratchet scowled as he threw the wrench at the back of Bumblebee's helm, the youngling letting out a yelp at the ancient Medical bot as he scurried out of the old war mech's medbay.

"Stupid young yahoo, I told him that using his thrusters indoors would result in a trip to my medbay." He grouched as he packed up his tools from the latest repair, silently thankful that Optimus and Prowl had long gone on patrol, leaving Bulkhead, Sari and Bumblebee to their own devices in the main section of the old factory in which they had taken up residence. It meant he could sit and do his own little projects without getting bothered… much.

He sighed as he subspaced his medical grade tools, only to pause as he picked up a specific wrench that he hadn't meant to take out and hadn't been thrown at anybot in vorns, "You're a sentimental old fragger Ratchet." He snapped at himself, pausing as a message on a very old but familiar frequency was received.

"What on Cybertron?" he asked nobody in particular, only to freeze as he heard the familiar voice of a Security Director he hadn't spoken to in stellar cycles, his old wrench falling from his servo hitting the floor with an ominous ring.

"Operation: ARK online."

_**===Earth's Moon=Nemesis=== **_

_**==Meister== **_

"Operation: ARK online."

A dull silver mech with a crystal azure visor chuckled in the darkness of the interrogation room, his helm horns glinting moonbeam white from the light of the foreign stars as he finally managed to slip his wrist plating from the bonds that held him to the chair after vorns of trying, "Time to go to work…"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!

Please R&R!

(This is the last of the prewritten stuff that I have edited like heck to make it presentable for here, so the rest of it will take a little longer to actually write and post. Enjoy!)

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><p><em><strong>===Cybertron=Iacon Shuttle Yard= Decacycles before the end of the Great War=== <strong>_

_**==Meister==**_

"Meister." a deep baritone voice rumbled in acknowledgement as a silver mech strode through the main corridor of a neon orange ship currently docked in the only undamaged shuttle yard in Iacon, carrying his recently berthed sparkling. "I wasn't expecting you to be here this orn."

"You know me Prime," the silver mech chuckled as the sparkling started to kick up a fuss, wiggling with little whimpers, trying to see the giant mech that was the commander of the ship. "Ah can't sit on my aft for too long without getting impatient."

"That's true." The giant Commander smiled, his azure optics glittering fantastic blue under the faux lighting that rippled off of his blue and red plating, "Mach Alert is on the bridge. I do believe those Twins of yours are trying to crash their Sire before we leave."

"Thanks Orion!" he called as the Prime went on his way, his attention being captured by the black plated weapons master, a gruff mech named Ironhide, waving him over from the door to the Weapons room, leaving the saboteur to trot into the Command Hub where he smiled at the sight.

His mate, Mach Alert was currently glaring at their eldest Twin offspring, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, both adult mechs plotting near the steering controls which the black and white Praxian with the ruby chevron could see from his vantage point on the Commanders chair. "I blame your coding if something goes wrong when we take off later." The aloof looking Praxian said casting the smiling silver mech a sour look.

"Aww let them have some fun." Meister grinned as his mate stood to greet him, both leaning in for a tender kiss over their newest addition to the family. "We won't see you for a few decacycles."

The doorwinged mech hummed softly, his gold optics glowing fondly at his chosen before they dropped down to the giggling black and white sparkling in the shining silver mech's arms, the child was reaching up for his sire with grabbing fingers and adorable clicks and coos from the safe confines of his Carriers arms. "He's getting big." Mach Alert commented offering his slightly clawed fingers for the child to play with as their immature Twins bounced up to them hugging their Sire in an exaggerated manner from behind as they crowded around their newest sibling.

"Hiya, Jazzy!" Sideswipe cooed from his position of leaning over his father's shoulder and doorwing to wave at the bewildered sparkling still absentmindedly chewing on his Sire's claws.

"It it just me or is he looking smaller?" Sunstreaker snickered at the gleeful squeal he got when he reached over and tickled the sparkling on the stomach plating.

"Aren't you two supposed to be making sure there aren't any stowaways?" Mach Alert asked rooted to the spot with his heavy adult offspring leaning on him.

"Come on Sunny. I've got a few good ideas brewing to leave for those jumped up minibots!" Sideswipe suddenly declared zipping from the room in a streak of red and black, closely followed by his amused sibling.

"They're going to drive me to an early deactivation, I know it." Mach Alert said mournfully resting his golden crested chevron on his laughing mate's shoulder. "You'll be alright while I'm gone?"

"Of course, I didn't become TIC and Head of Special Operations being a light weight in the defence and offence department." Meister grinned cuddling the cooing sparkling Jazz close, "Besides, you're only going to be away for a three decacycles, and it's the last reconnaissance mission before you retire."

"Ah yes, serving with you and our offspring for vorns on end in this war has aged me terribly." The golden opticked Praxian smiled bringing his helm up to kiss his mate as their Prime walked onto the bridge declaring they were nearly ready to take off and whoever wasn't scheduled to come to get off the ship, "I'll see you soon, my love."

_**===Cybertron =Iacon=Residential District=Present Day === **_

_**==Jazz== **_

Jazz scowled at the graze on his knuckle joints petulantly as he found the flexiseal canister in one of the barren cupboards of the apartment, looking away childishly as the stinging pasty mixture was sprayed on, effectively blocking the weeping torn metal of his knuckles.

"I really should throw that thing out." He muttered to himself, tossing the half empty canister back into the cupboard, before striding back to the couch, only to pause as he saw the lid missing from the box his Carrier had sent him from beyond the grave. "You weren't like that before." He muttered picking up the box with a puzzled frown peering into the darkness of the surprisingly spacious package.

First, he withdrew an ancient looking data-pad, its edges smooth from constant handling, the Autobot symbol pattern on the back faded and half sunk into the smooth plane of metal. The power button had lost its sheen, its paint cracked and half peeled away. He carefully pressed it, the screen powering up with a struggle of flickering light before the power finally held and the menu of the data-pad loaded. He felt a sharp stab of something in the heel of his palm, jumping when he saw a stylus had automatically ejected from its holder within the data-pad.

Jazz slid the worn stylus free, smiling slightly at the slight indents and scratches from fingers and abuse along its circular edges. His attention was instantly captured by the data-pad again as it automatically selected a programme within its knowledge banks, before a small simple message in his Carrier's woven scrawl began to fill the screen accompanied by it read aloud, the familiar soothing tone making his vents hitch... it was his Carrier.

"Time to go on a treasure hunt Jazzy."

The statement was then followed by a flashing set of numbers before the data-pad died in his hands, charge wasted from so many stellar cycles in the cybertanium box, the internal battery having degraded over time. "Cryptic as ever Carrier." He sighed shaking his helm sliding the data-pad onto the desk before delving back into the mysterious package's contents.

Puzzled at the smooth edges his finger tips brushed against, Jazz wrenched his servo free dragging with him what appeared to be a jagged edged black rectangle shaped object. Tilting it in the light he pondered over it; the object was a brilliant shining ebony though it had obvious been broken off from a larger section. It was covered in veins of light crisscrossing and diving into the innards of the fragment.

"It's part of a Shuttle Processor." Jazz gawked recognising the design from the one he had seen in the Steelhaven when he had been doing maintenance repair. It was well known if a shuttle didn't have every single part of their processor, they wouldn't work.

However in his puzzlement over his Carrier's 'gift' he never heard nor noticed a ruby opticked Decepticon drone online in a soft hum of activation, placed in the cupboard on the eve of the Autobot Meister's kidnap, slip out of the cupboard with the soft rhythmic pitter-patter of its clawed legs to loom over the young ninja from the counter that the couch was pushed up against, scythes like a praying mantis poised to strike at his neck cabling.

_**===Cybertron=Iacon= The Towers= Mirage=== **_

Mirage grumbled as he retreated back into his office, his burgundy servant rushing off to get his Lord a cube of heater Energon tea to help soothe the blue and white nobles frazzled nerves after having to apologize to the council for so suddenly abandoning his appointment with them, covering up his sudden cancellation with an excuse that a client was being difficult. The stressed noblemech slouched back into his office chair, finding his Inbox half filled with messages from his old comrades demanding to know why he had ordered Operation: ARK activated.

He smiled shaking his helm and leant forward, his fingers poised to compose replies only just realising a soft shrill buzz was coming from the tracer receiver he placed on Meister's Package. His golden gaze flickered to the receiver watching as it flashed in what a human might have called Morse code with a bright neon purple light. Optics brightened in alarm as the pattern for a Decepticon signal flashed as the Noble lunged for his communicator calling up the first name he recognised that would be nearest to Jazz's position.

"Sideswipe! There's a Decepticon in Jazz's apartment! Get over there now!"

_**===Earth's Moon=Nemesis=== **_

_**==Meister== **_

"Now we're going to do this nice and easy." Meister smiled darkly, holding the stolen energon knife tightly to Blitzwing's neck cabling, having run into the as he backed up towards the last remaining scouting pod that had survived the crash of the Decepticon's Leap Warship. "You let me get out of here without a squeal; I won't cut your cabling and leave you to bleed out on this little rock."

"You stupid little Autobot!" the hothead roared flailing slightly "I will tear you to slagging pieces!"

"No need for him to squeal, Meister." A dark voice rumbled with an amused chuckle, the dark doorway to the last pod blocked by the towering form of Megatron. "I already know you're out."

"Megatron." Meister drawled with a dark glower, "Keeping tabs on me are you?"

"I'll admit I'm surprised." The warlord sneered in return as the silver saboteur kept the captive Blitzwing between them, "Making a break for freedom when you can't fly away from this little barren rock? A little bit silly isn't it?"

The infamous saboteur's grin was almost feral "That's just me Megsy."

The Decepticon leader scowled treading forward as the Autobot hissed tightening his grip on the dagger pointed at Blitzwing's vocaliser, ready to slice at the slightest wrong movement. "Surrender Autobot, I don't really need to tell you that you are no match for me, even if you offline the fool."

Meister growled considering his options, before he sighed, shoulders sagging and the energon blade he had stolen dropping into zero gravity, Blitzwing stumbling away from the smaller mech with a gasp of his vents.

The silver mech was tackled by Megatron himself, his wrists captured in a set of stasis cuffs as the tyrant grabbed him by the neck cabling and slammed him halfway up the wall. The giant mech leaned into the Autobot's personal space, wild garnet clashing with pained but angry lapis lazuli. Suddenly, the saboteur was on the floor, gasping and coughing.

"Get him to Earth. I won't have him getting out again without someone there to catch him. I still need those blasted codes." the Decepticon growled turning on his heel as the smirking Blitzwing, his helm turning to the calm face, picked up the hissing silver mech.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!

Please R&R

(Enjoy!)

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><p><em><strong>===Cybertron=Iacon= Market District=Sideswipe's Supply Shop=== <strong>_

_**==Sideswipe== **_

"Have a nice orn!" the ruby and ebony mech smiled charmingly from behind the counter as the grouchy looking mech finished placing his order, storming out of the shop with a loud grumble after he watched the cashier file the order. After he heard the sound of his front door hissing shut, Sideswipe's faceplate dropped its pleasant air and flattened into a frown, "Aft."

Sideswipe wasn't usually one to complain about his customers, but today, everybot that trudged in to place an order or pick up their packages seemed to belong in the 'aft' or 'impossible' category this orn, and that was counting the mech had just left.

He sat behind the counter trying to stack a set of cards that had been neglected when he dealt with the customer, giving a tired sigh as they tumbled down from the fetching pyramid structure he had built as his berth partner strode into the shop looking as tired as he felt. "Are you really that bored?" the Praxian framed mech asked tilting his helm as he expertly swiped the cards into a stack with a flourished flick of his wrist.

"You try waiting for and dealing with customers that come in every day." The red and black mech grumbled slouching further into his chair beside the till with a petulant scowl, "Almost makes me wish I hadn't sworn off of black market dealing. At least then I would have had a bit of action."

"Don't look at me." The blue, red and silver bot replied waving his hands in a placating gesture his gold chevron glinting in the bright lights of the shop, "I'm a shrink now and I still have to go to that therapist every four decacycles to try and resolve my gambling habit, which is actually quite amusing as me and my therapist both work at the same building. Anyway Sides, you promised Sunstreaker you wouldn't try it again after we had that bomb scare."

"Yeah, yeah, or you'll get my brother to kick my aft." Sideswipe grinned "I heard the Steelhaven was back in the docks. Looks like we'll be getting a call from my dear little bro later, care to make those Energon Goodies you're so good at Smokescreen?"

"Oh, he used the full name, he must be desperate!" Smokescreen chuckled shaking his helm as he made his way into the back of the shop that led upwards to their apartment above the supply shop, "You're such an excitable sparkling. Alright, I'll make those energon goodies."

"Thanks Smokey!" Sideswipe cooed as his communicator buzzed. With a sigh, the once frontline warrior tapped a finger to his helm, "Sideswipe's Supply Shop, you want, we deliver…"

He was cut off by a startlingly familiar voice that had him springing from his chair, the neat pile of cards cascading to the floor, "Sideswipe! There's a Decepticon in Jazz's apartment! Get over there Now!"

_**===Cybertron= Iacon= Residential District= Jazz's Apartment=== **_

_**==Jazz== **_

Jazz frowned at the fragment twirling it in his fingers, watching the light play off of the jagged edges, pondering which ship it could have been from. Shuttle Processors were unique to each shuttle, with varying patterns of light data crisscrossing their surfaces and innards, and they all came in a myriad of colours. The young cyber ninja leaned back on the couch with a sigh, dumping the piece of shuttle processor back in the Cybertanium Box which snapped shut with a startled shifting of metal, covering the drained data-pad and fragment from view.

"What in Primus…?" Jazz mumbled in surprise, stiffening when he heard something hiss, turning on his heel and jumping back when something swiped at him. He landed beyond the reach of whatever had attacked him pausing in surprise at the insect like creature that was hissing and clicking in a furious series of obvious curses at having missed its target.

It clambered off of the counter, legs scrabbling furiously over the polished surface as it dropped casually onto the couch beside the box. The drone snarled as he raised his servo to call upon Sentinel, spitting a green sticky substance from its chest that burned his fingers and servo, preventing him from summoning backup. Jazz stumbled back with a pained cry, tripping over the small table in the middle of his living area as he felt the paint and metal of his servo sizzle and peel.

Red optics flared with an activated programme, the two optics splitting into hundreds of tiny optic tendrils waving limply before they reformed into what could only be a tubular oral cavity, the lining glowing ruby with the drone's activated optic sensors, the creature turning on the Cybertanium box, the insect like drone swallowing the cube with an odd sucking motion like a human hoover.

As the drone done its designated task, Jazz's door burst open in a flare of heat and smoke startling the confused and injured Cyber Ninja as one of his elder brothers skidded into the apartment, what could only be a Decepticon Grade rifle clasped in his servo, the barrel of which was promptly aimed at the Drone that finished swallowing the cube.

The Insect Drone shrieked as the barrel hummed with energy, two purple plasma shots fired at point blank range into the chest and transforming helm of the creature. It writhed and fell off the couch in the throes of deactivation, its multiple centipede legs waving and rippling frantically as the ruby and black warrior approached, his rifle subspaced in favour of an energon dagger that formed in his grip, aimed directly for the bulge in its belly compartment.

Jazz barely heard the drones dying pained wails, as he leaned against the wall with an almost shell shocked look about him as his brother came to crouch in front of him, the Cybertanium box that his sibling had retrieved from the drone's stomach placed by the ninja's leg, covered in a purple suspension goo that prevented anything from getting damaged in transport, much like an amniotic sac.

"Jazz." Sideswipe was calling, waving his servo in front of the younger mech's faceplate as his brother jumped back to reality in a rapid fire flurry of questions.

"Who? What?" Jazz tried to voice in a mild panic as the red and black mech before him grabbed his injured servo's wrist and began to wrap the appendage in a protective cloth.

"You'll live little brother. It's just a little acid." Sideswipe grinned, Jazz just realising that his elder brother's faceplate was splattered with the energon of the drone as the larger mech pulled the lithe ninja to his pedes, before bending back down to pick up the fluid covered box, looking it over for a nanoclick before subspacing it with a frown, "Let's get you and that box to Mirage. You'll be safer there."

Jazz tilted his helm in confusion as Sideswipe gripped his wrist dragging him from the energon and blast marked apartment, one question rolling around his confused and disorientated processor, "Who the frag is Mirage?"

_**===Earth=Downtown Detroit=Autobot Base=== **_

_**==Ratchet== **_

"Frag, earth weather and frag you Primus." Ratchet snarled to himself as he typed away on his terminal, having shooed Bulkhead from monitor duty when he had finally been able to break out of his daze, as his old friend's relayed order echoed through his processor. "I can't get a message back to Cybertron…"

"What's so important about contacting Cybertron?" a quiet voice asked making him jump, a wrench automatically being flung in the direction of the voice, a lithe black and gold ninja bot somersaulting out of the projectile's flight path in surprise.

"None of your business Prowl." The old bot grouched as the younger mech tilted his helm curiously at the amount of signal strength codes that the medic had tried, that crawled across the screen in lines of Autobot red.

"I wasn't aware that half of those were still able to be activated." Optimus' voice soon chipped in, breaking the medic and the ninja's caught gazes, the red and white war medic scowling at the elite guard drop out that was tailed by the rest of the earth's crew into the monitor room.

"Privacy is obviously an unnecessary luxury with you lot. They are Great War codes." Ratchet said wearily as he went back to work, his faceplate splitting into a smile as he finally found a weak acknowledgment signal to bounce back to Red Alert. "Orders received." He said softly.

"Ratchet?" Optimus asked curiously as they all gathered around the old war medic that gave a resigned sigh. "What's going on?"


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers

Please R&R

(Enjoy!)

* * *

><p><em><strong>===Cybertron=Outskirts of Iacon= Energon Refinery=== <strong>_

_**==Red Alert== **_

The Security Director sighed as his apprentice began to try to subtly use her communication link to call up her friends yet again, obviously bored with the work he had prescribed to her. "Well it's not my fault if this refinery gets a break in when I've retired." He grumbled, slouching slightly in his seat as another private call was redirected to his terminal. He scowled at the unidentifiable number checking through the signal with his various programmes before allowing the picture to flicker onto the screen. "You really need to stop calling me during my shifts Mirage."

The blue and white noble smiled, a flash of denta that held a predatory look making Red Alert shudder, his paranoia glitch flaring. "And I need you to get in contact with Sunstreaker."

"What?" he nearly shouted at the terminal, his apprentice jumping in terror with a squeak as she immediately went back to work fearing that she had been caught chatting to her friends. "What about Sideswipe? Doesn't he have contact with his Twin?"

"They had a bit of a fall out over some merchandise Sideswipe was ferrying, and Sunstreaker took off to a different city to continue his art. The last notable record I could find was that he was in New Praxus."

"Mirage…" Red Alert sighed tapping his slightly clawed fingers lightly on the buttons, not hard enough to press but lightly moving each key, "You know as well as I do that Sunstreaker is volatile."

"His little brother just got attacked by a Class three Decepticon Drone, if I didn't get a volatile reaction I'd be worried. Either way, he'd better know soon before the media gets wind of Jazz being attacked by a Decepticon and his disappearance." Mirage said in return leaning back in his chair with a deep frown, interlacing his fingers with his elbows leaning on the plush looking arm rests.

"I trust you have custody of Jazz at the moment?" Red Alert asked tilting his helm, his optics straying to his apprentice who was leaving for an energon break.

"Sideswipe is taking him here. We're taking no more chances." The noble mech nodded sagely, "Can I trust you with this Red?"

The old Security Director snorted, "Very well Mirage. Let it be known you reaped the whirlwind."

"Duly noted." The pristine blue and white noble chuckled before something beeped on the other end of the Noble's connection. "I must go, Sideswipe has arrived."

Red Alert sighed nodded before he sliced the connection, rising from his station and stretching out his wires and cabling with a grumble as a strut clicked in its joint. He frowned as he moved to lean over his apprentice's terminal cancelling out her other, non-work related searches, bringing up the Cybertron Directory, a site filled with the home numbers of thousands of mechs. "I hope Sunstreaker is in a listening mood." He said softly as he found the number of the famous artist and began the dialling sequence.

_**==Cybertron= New Praxus= Residential District== **_

_**==Sunstreaker== **_

The foam of the curling wave of the sea had been splattered a flashy pale blue that blended gently into the floating deep emerald of the surface of the unbroken waves behind it, the brilliant scope of sky a bright royal purple.

Sunstreaker sighed happily as he set down his brush, leaning back to survey the alien landscape he had been researching for the past few orns. The picture itself had been a standard landscape of sea and sky; it had just been the colours he had puzzled over.

He was startled when his artist studio door was opened by the grinning form of his best friend and occasional berth partner, Bluestreak. The young Praxian having fully matured over the vorns into a fully fledged Praxian Enforcer Commander who was a darling of the people.

"Hi Sunny!" the Commander of the New Praxus Enforcers grinned, his optics flashing with their usual bright cheerful fire that the golden mech found so infectious. "How are you this orn?"

"You finally took an orn off?" Sunstreaker smirked rising from his stool in front of the grand coloured canvas to greet the enforcer, "I'm impressed."

The ex-sharpshooter giggled dancing forward to bestow a kiss on his casual lover, his doorwings fluttering in amusement, "And I see you've finally finished that painting that's been bothering you lately."

The golden artist chuckled, reaching forward to caress a doorwing as their lips pressed tenderly together, his fingertips just centimetres away when his holo-phone started to buzz.

Both mechs groaned at the interruption, bother turning their cobalt gazes to stare petulantly at the awaiting phone. "I suppose I'd better answer." The ex-frontline warrior scowled stomping out of his artist studio to activate the call. "What?"

"Oh so you aren't in a listening mood." The familiar, slightly panicky voice of an old crew member sighed with despair.

"Red Alert?" Sunstreaker gawked as the old Security Director's image flickered onto the screen, his image slightly distorted by static from the long range call, "What are you phoning me for?"

"It seems you didn't get the message I left." The paranoid mech grumbled, his armour flaring in a huff, "Hello Bluestreak."

"Hi, Red!" the Enforcer Commander smiled warmly, "It's good to see a familiar face again."

"Likewise." The red and white mech thinly smiled in return before turning his attention back onto the puzzled looking twin of Sideswipe. "Mirage wants me to relay a message; he's currently clearing up a few affairs at the moment and so is unable to contact you himself."

"Please tell me it wasn't my idiot of a twin." The gold mech snarled suddenly only to hiss as Red Alert rolled his optics in resignation.

"Partially. He had to rescue Jazz from a Decepticon Drone, class 3, I believe he said. Apparently your carrier left something of value that the Decepticons need." Red Alert explained as Sunstreaker began to look more and more furious. "Plus, Operation: ARK is in effect. All crew are currently standing by."

"But I thought Operation: ARK was abandoned vorns ago." Bluestreak interjected tilting his chevroned helm curiously as Sunstreaker stomped off back into his home subspacing various items as he went. "Meister said it himself before he was killed, there was no point anymore."

Red Alert shrugged helplessly as the gold twin suddenly appeared back on the screen, his optics shining murderously. "You tell Mirage I'll be there as soon as I can." With that he snapped the connection heading towards the door with a scowl twisting at his faceplates. "Are you coming Blue?"

"I need to stay here Sunny." Bluestreak sighed shaking his helm before tossing his lover a communicator from his subspace, "But keep me updated, I want to know if Jazz is alright."

_**==Cybertron= Iacon= The Towers= Medbay== **_

_**==Sideswipe== **_

"I am so dead." The red and ebony mech fretted pacing to and fro in the waiting area like a caged animal as Mirage casually sat reading a data-pad. "You might as well start organising a memorial now Mirage. Sunstreaker will end me when he gets here!"

"He won't once I explain what is going on." The Noble soothed blandly only shifting to scroll further down the data-pad, "Anyway Sideswipe, you're being overdramatic, it was only a little acid on the servo."

"For us maybe!" the Marketer said continuing his frantic pacing, his frame still covered in dried energon and purple buffer fluid, "Jazz hasn't come into any real contact with Decepticon warfare."

"Mute your vocaliser!" Mirage hissed, his gold optics flaring "This is a Towers Medbay, anybody from my Tower could walk in. And go get clean for pits sake, you're covered in mechblood."

"I would," Sideswipe grumbled crossing his arms across his chestplates "But I want to know how Jazz is before I go anywhere."

"I'm fine." A mainly white ninja bot said as the doors reeled open and the young mech walked up to them, thanking the nurse that handed a pad to the poker faced Mirage.

"Thank Primus for that." Sideswipe said sighing with relief running a high powered scan over his little brother as the ninja smiled at him.

"No worries bro, just a little acid on the servo." The younger mech shrugged as Mirage snorted his amusement at a glowering Sideswipe. "Though I was a little shocked that, that thing, just appeared out of nowhere."

"See? They know how to make Elite Guard soldiers." The blue and white noble smiled at the pouting Sideswipe, extending a servo to the ninja that lowered his optics in respect for the Noble-mech. "Hello Jazz, I am Mirage. I used to work for your Carrier."

"Really?" Jazz asked, tilting his helm in confusion, "Are you sure? My Carrier was a barmech."

"Among other things." The Noble smiled cryptically as Sideswipe grumbled about needing to get to a wash rack stat before Sunstreaker got here, he wanted to look good if he was going to die frag it! "If you will come with me Jazz. Everything shall be explained…"

_**==Earth= Decepticon Base= Brig== **_

_**==Meister== **_

"You know, hanging me here like a wall decoration isn't very productive." The silver bot smirked as he dangled from a stone wall, his stasis cuffed wrists pulled high above his helm with his pedes barely scraping the floor of the cell, "Though I gotta say, I love what you've done with the place. It's dark, gloomy, has an odd smell of damp but it's a perfect hidey-hole for you cowards."

"Keep pushing me Autobot." Megatron snapped as he stood on the other side of the Cybertanium bars "I dare you."

"Don't mind if I do." Meister grinned cheekily in reply as he tried to wiggle free of his bonds.

"You won't get out of here so easily." The Tyrant taunted cruelly.

"That's what you said about the Nemesis." The captured saboteur sneered, twisting a little in his binds as he got a sensation similar to a human cramp in his pedes "And look how far I got there."

"This can all go away Meister." The Decepticon Lord smiled darkly, his ruby optics burning from the gloom "So tell me what I want to know… and I might just let that sparkling of yours, Jazz, live to see another orn…"


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers

Please R&R

(Warning: Plot Twist and Cliffhangers!

Enjoy!)

* * *

><p><em><strong>==Cybertron= Iacon= The Towers= Mirage's Penthouse== <strong>_

_**==Jazz== **_

The Noble's home was so large Jazz was sure he would get lost without the burgundy servant that was currently explaining the use of the spear from a distant alien world that hung like a giant letter opener on the white streaked dark blue wall. The penthouse was spread over two floors, and it seemed far too large for the single noble that dwelled within the grandly decorated apartment.

Sideswipe, in a total lack of etiquette for being in the presence of a noble, had recently disappeared into the wash racks. He tried to apologise for his elder brother's behaviour which the lithe blue and white mech merely gave him a mysterious smile and commented that somebots never changed.

As one of the noble's servants showed him the rich mech's art and weapon collection while Mirage himself took care of some business, Sideswipe emerged from the wash racks, his armour now clear of the drone mechblood and the purple, slimy buffer fluid.

"It's not really a shock Mirage ended up back in the Towers." Sideswipe said to himself as he ran his finger tips over a painting done by Sunstreaker that was hanging next to a window that overlooked the Tower's extensive crystal gardens.

Jazz grit his denta through his frustration tilting his helm with a forced smile, "Can you at least tell me what is going on Sides? First I get home from work like normal then a Decepticon Drone attacks me going after that weird gift Carrier left for me…" He trailed off as Sideswipe's faceplates twisted into a dark frown, the sudden urge to lie flickering across his elder brother's optics before the larger mech glanced into the gardens with a shadowed look.

"Jazz…" the ex-frontline warrior sighed running his servo over his helm to clutch at the back of his neck cabling, his optics tilted towards the roof as if the gold and white ceiling would give him answers.

"I believe it would be easier to discuss this in my office." the Noble-mech Mirage interrupted, appearing as if from nowhere, standing in the centre of the corridor with a calculating looking in his golden gaze as Sideswipe gave a sigh that echoed relief. "These walls have audios."

_**==Earth=Decepticon Base=Brig== **_

_**==Meister== **_

With a groan of pain, the silver saboteur was dropped from the wall, crumpling to the ground with a cough, flecks of pink mechblood splattering the ground.

"Well Meister?" Megatron asked smugly from where he stood watching as Blitzwing kicked the saboteur onto his back, "You've heard my proposal, what's your decision?"

Meister whimpered silently, his processor in turmoil, _"Forgive me, Mach Alert. Forgive me, Orion." _He thought to himself staring up at the mould covered ceiling of the dark Decepticon base. _"They'll destroy our family, Mach. So if we meet again… please forgive me."_

"I have a proposal for _you_ Megatron." Meister said lowly managing to struggle onto his knee joints, his bound servos holding his weight as he stared at the ground. "I'll give you the codes, and to cement the deal…"

Meister looked up at the warlord who let out a dark rumbling chuckle in the darkness of the Decepticon brig as bright blue visor turned a dark radiation red.

_**==Cybertron=Iacon=The Towers= =**_

_**==Sunstreaker== **_

"This place needs a damn elevator." The golden mech panted as he struggled up the many gleaming stairs towards Mirage's penthouse, with only two more sets to go.

"I trust your journey here was uneventful." A calm almost aloof voice greeted him when he finally managed to reach the grand double doors of the blue and white noble that stood leaning on the banister looking down at the hundreds of floors that could be seen through the gap at the centre of the stairwell.

"Quite." The artist grunted sitting down on the top step to regulate his atmosphere intake and cool his aching overheated joints, "Sideswipe might have to wait until next orn for me to slag him. Primus, how do you put up with all these stairs every day?"

"Like most Cybertronians I take the lift." Mirage deadpanned pointing at an innocent looking door on the last floor above them. "It goes to the second floor, I walk from there."

"Frag it." Sunstreaker snarled to himself as he shakily got to his pedes having totally missed the lift, the graceful noble leading him into the foyer of his home. "Don't do anything in half measures do you?" the gold mech asked sarcastically as he spotted some grand alien artefacts gracing the walls.

"As the last descendant of my lineage, it is only natural I was graced with this Penthouse." Mirage replied as he strode towards his office, letting in the frontline warrior turned artist first.

"Hi Sunny!" was the first thing Sunstreaker heard before he found himself flat on his back, a giddy looking Sideswipe straddling him. "It's been ages bro!"

"Get off me you over excitable sparkling." The golden mech huffed shoving his brother away, the ruby and ebony mech rolling off to the side as a chuckling Jazz helped his other brother back to his pedes. "I'm too tired to slag you right now." Sunstreaker grunted as Sideswipe sent a poke of fondness over their sibling bond that had gradually been getting stronger as Sunstreaker climbed the stairs.

"Love you too Sunshine!" the trader grinned rolling to his pedes and slinging an arm around his twin and nuzzling the scowling mech as Mirage sat in his grand chair, looking much like a strict headmaster over some disobedient sparkling that had been sent to his office.

"Don't call me that. So why did you activate Operation: ARK Mirage?" Sunstreaker asked as he checked over Jazz himself, his little brother giving him an exasperated sigh in response. "You know our Carrier abandoned it."

"Operation: ARK was abandoned, true." The noble nodded, inclining his helm towards Sideswipe who subspaced the box that Mirage had sent off not a few joors ago and slid it onto the desk for Sunstreaker to examine. "However, I have reason to believe that whatever your Carrier put in this package meant for Jazz might just be what we're looking for."

"How do you open it." The golden twin asked curiously as he turned over the recently cleaned cybertanium box seeing no lid.

"Red Alert and I think it is mechblood activated." Mirage explained turning his amber gaze to the bewildered looking Jazz. "In other words, the only mech on Cybertron who can open it without having to put this through some heavy artillery fire is you Jazz."

_**==Earth=Detroit== **_

_**==Ratchet== **_

As he had relaxed into the sofa in the Autobot base, pondering on how to tell the 'Repair Crew' he had been abandoned on earth with about his past during the war, the alarms had gone off, the Decepticons appearing out of the shadows of obscurity to cause a ruckus as Starscream and Megatron had a bit of what Bumblebee was calling a 'Lovers Tiff'.

Somehow, he had been separated from the group as they progressed towards the docks, Optimus and Megatron throwing insults at each other as the young Prime avoided the tyrant's fusion cannon blasts while the rest of their respective faction tried to rip each other to pieces.

Taking a shortcut through a back alley to catch up with the action, he vaulted the wall using his magnets, the old defence weapons sliding out with a mutinous groan of old mechanisms.

"I'll need to oil them later." He grumbled sourly jogging down the street only to skid to a stop as he heard an achingly familiar chuckle echo in the empty street, the past coming back in a series of rippling images and words to the front of his processors.

"You're getting old Ratch'." The baritone voice sighed darkly in the silence of the street, only the occasional sounds of a transformer hitting asphalt or the hum of a Decepticon's cannon splintering the sudden freezing of time.

"You're supposed to be deactivated." The old medic replied wearily, not bothering to turn to see who it was, there was no mistaking the light tred of this bot, no matter how many vorns had passed.

"The Cons gave me an ultimatum and an offer I can't refuse." The bot said, Ratchet staring at the reflection of the silver mech in a parked car, silver helm horns glinting dangerously as an EMP cannon formed out of one of his silver arms. "I'm doing this to protect my sparklings Ratchet; I can't lose them like I lost Mach Alert."

"Your sparklings are grown mechs." Ratchet said darkly as he turned on his heel, internally mourning his old comrade that had seemingly returned to life only to betray him by wearing a Decepticon brand that gleamed a traitorous purple across his chest plates. "And you're betraying the memory of everything you once believed in… Meister…"

The silver mech smiled softly, his faceplates twisted into a sad grimace as he brought his EMP Cannon up and levelled it at his old comrade his once pure azure visor gleaming a molten ruby. "I'm sorry Ratchet."

His old comrade fired…


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer I don't own transformers!

Please R&R

(Enjoy!)

* * *

><p><em><strong>==Deep Space= Decacycle before the End of the Great War== <strong>_

"I'm telling you Mach," grumbled the large black plated weapons master wearily as both officers examined the screens that their ship had thrown up for them to study. "The Con's are being too quiet. We haven't come into contact with anything for orns!"

"Be calm Ironhide," the black and white mech said stoically, sweeping his servo across the holoscreen, wiping it clean of the tactical scenario that Mach Alert was occupying himself with as they filled in the dull shift. "We are in a distant quadrant of this galaxy; Orion wants to use the solar energy from the nearest star to recharge the engines, we are running surprisingly low on fuel. I think we sprang a leak that last skirmish."

"Well as long as we get back to Cybertron soon." The black plated mech huffed at the SIC as he slouched in his pilot chair, "I don't even know why the Council sent us on this little trip anyway. The Decepticons left Cybertron decacycles ago."

"I believe the terms they used as an excuse for this 'trip' were 'annihilate them', 'vaporise them' and 'Take their shuttle's floors out from under them'." Mach Alert said blandly as he connected his favourite data-pad to the tactics table, the old worn pad struggling to connect with the advanced computer terminal which the black and white Praxian scowled at, giving the 'fragile' equipment a sharp kick before the shuttle's computer finally connected with a sullen beep. Information flooded onto the holoscreen in giant clumps of data, which rotated like a galaxy before the shuttle computer began to sort out every file into clearly labelled folders.

"What's the situation?" the deep rumble of the Prime asked curiously, the doors to the Command Hub hissing open to reveal the red, blue and silver mech.

"Zero on radar, everything is quiet… again..." Ironhide sighed with a bored air tapping the radar screen as if knocking on the glass with his fingers would make Decepticon shuttles magically appear.

"Only two more orns Ironhide." The Prime said soothingly as Mach Alert finished reorganising his data-pad files, "Then I'm willing to call it quits with the Decepticons, Megatron can hide out here as long as he likes."

"Finally." The Weapons Master cried, earning a chuckle from the Prime as he wandered over to Mach Alert's designated 'Tactics Table'.

"What would be the quickest route back to Cybertron?" he asked curiously as Mach Alert once again swept his servo across the semi solid holoscreen wiping his activities and bringing up a detailed plan of the young solar system they had entered and taken refuge in.

"Cutting through this particular solar system is risky, but it would get us back to Cybertron within two decacycles with a well placed ignition of Wheeljack's Worm Hole device at the end of the system." The red and gold accented, black and white Praxian replied with a small frown of concentration, his doorwings twitching softly before tapping the screen which zoomed out of the diagram and began to point out the longer route home. "However, if we go around this Sol System it will add on multiple decacycles."

"Very well," Orion Prime frowned as Ironhide began to swing the large shuttle known as the ARK away from the third planet of the system they had been approaching, a homely looking little planet made up of mostly water with large land masses scattered across its surface. "We'll take the short cut, I trust you can steer the ARK through the asteroid belts, Ironhide?"

"If I can't do it Prime, nobody can!" the black plated mech boasted as Mach Alert rolled his optics shutting off his terminal, and gesturing to his data-pad.

"I'll load the new software I created for Teletraan into his main core." The black and white mech said as he strode from the room with acknowledging clicks from his superior and fellow officer.

On his way into the bowels of the shuttle, he passed the tracker, Hound as he jogged towards the Rec-Room, obviously late for the crew movie by his worried expression, both acknowledging each other with a polite flare of their magnetic fields. With a sigh he passed the emergency stasis pods and came to a heavily fortified door which he had to enter several high access codes into before the shuttle finally let him into its core.

The core itself was a giant orb of black metal with light filaments crisscrossing its surface, special neural reactors scattered around the sphere occasionally let out a blast of lightning into the black substance, flooding Teletraan's brain with sensory information and the general whereabouts of his crew as the shuttle's processor rotated anticlockwise on its axis to prevent itself from overheating with each new blast of information.

Mach Alert gripped his data-pad slightly tighter, weary of the living ship that had no spark and asked Teletraan for a fragment of his processor to download the new, Decepticon resistant hacking codes.

The orb, rotating quietly on its axis glided to a stop, the reactors that fed the processor with information like a neural network, powering down as a small chunk of the sphere broke off and hovered over to the SIC.

White, claw tipped fingers grabbed the warm, glass like metal, the light filaments of the fragment extending out like tiny worms burrowing out of an apple to link with the data-pad, which cycled on with a casual buzz of static.

As the joor passed, he received an urgent ping of his communicator from his Prime. "I'm nearly done. Give me a few breems." He muttered, as he carefully grafted the new coding into the fragment of the Shuttle's processor.

He never got a chance to finish his work when Orion himself barrelled through the door to Teletraan's processor and yanked his SIC away from the hull, making the Praxian drop his data-pad and the fragment to the floor as he was dragged back through the closing door by his scruff bar, his doorwings flared in shock and fright, the doors hissing shut as the room exploded in flying metal and fire, the data-pad and the vital fragment flying off into the recesses of space as Teletraan threw up his energy shields to protect the remaining bulk of his processor.

"What the frag is going on?" Mach Alert called, his helm ringing with the complex explosion of various emotions trying to force themselves through his battle computer, the world spinning slightly as the emergency ruby lighting flooded the corridor.

"It's a meteor shower!" Orion shouted over the blaring of the alarms, the crew scrambling to the stasis pods that lined the walls, some already beginning the stasis sequence, shutters of Cybertanium closing over the clear view glass of the stasis evoked mechs, protecting them from harm. "Get in the pods now!"

"Did you send an SOS to Cybertron?" Mach Alert loudly asked back as Ironhide herded the last of the crew towards the Stasis Room, having put the shuttle on Autopilot to buy them some time to get into the pods.

"We don't have time." Ironhide puffed through his vents, shaking his helm as the Praxian began to fret. "Teletraan's failing he can barely keep us on a straight course."

"Mach Alert, can't you activate an SOS beacon on your Data-pad?" Orion asked as the last of the crew entered stasis, safe in the reinforced pods, the Prime, his SIC and his weapons master entering their own pods as Mach Alert shook his helm in resignation.

"It is lost with the fragment of Teletraan's processor."

"Very well." Orion Prime sighed leaning into the gel of the stasis pod as it sealed the officers within, "recharge well my friends…"

"Meister," Mach Alert whispered as the glass closed over him, the pod powering up as cables linked with his systems urging him into a dreamless recharge, "Goodbye, my love."

The Autopilot, Teletraan himself, began to fail without the fragment of his processor, the alarms cutting off with a shrill dying whine as the engines shuddered, coughed fire finally belched smoke into the cosmos. The shuttle began to list onto its side, rolling over like a beached whale as a nearby planet caught the shuttle in her gravity fields. The shuttle, a bright neon orange, christened 'The ARK' by its creators so many vorns ago, fell into the blue and green planet's atmosphere with a dying groan, his occupants locked deep in frozen slumber and they crashed into an expanse of water, skidding along the sandy bottom, creating a deep trench, and finally grinding to a halt in an underwater cavern of a tiny landmass that would one day become known as Dinobot Island…


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers

Please R&R

(I'm in one of those mysterious/annoying cliffhanger moods, so a chappy of this got written instead of PMR (aka Praxian Mating Rituals). Enjoy and I hope everybody had a brilliant Christmas!)

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><p><em><strong>===Earth= Decepticon Base= Megatron's Throne Room===<strong>_

Onlining his optics Megatron stirred on his throne, the recently acquired Meister standing like a lone sentry beside the doors, his servos clasped behind his back as his magma coloured visor leered out of the shadows he was concealed in.

"You have reason to be here Saboteur?" he asked darkly, flexing his clawed digits on his throne, his fusion cannon humming with crackling energy just in case the silver mech, once loyal to his brother, decided he didn't want to be on the Decepticon's side anymore.

"Why did you turn on Orion?" the once fabled Third in Command of the Autobot Army asked slowly, his stance tensing as if to flee should Megatron show any sign of violence towards him.

Shifting so that he could rest his cheek plate against his servo that leant against the armrest of his throne, the tyrant of the Great War smiled thinly, a fang dropping over his lip-plate, "A difference of opinion, Meister, a simple matter that was blown out of context by the council."

"Do you regret anything?" his new solider asked, a clawed servo scratching over the new Decepticon brand, making Megatron smirk; doubting his allegiance already was he?

"Do not assume I trust you just because you switched sides Meister." Megatron rumbled, "Like Starscream, you have an ulterior motive, it's just that yours is easy to predict and it will eventually get you killed in a more painful way by my servo. Also, I'm keeping you around for my amusement at seeing one of my brother's most trusted friends fall so far from grace."

"Have I not proved my loyalty?" Meister hissed, his visor flashing blue then back to red as he struggled to absorb the insults, "I shot the medic."

"And he survived." Megatron growled, fusion humming at a higher pitch as he directed more charge to the infamous cannon.

"The ninja bot is talented. I underestimated him." Meister said confidently, the slight waver of his voice betraying the lie.

"Don't lie to me, Saboteur." The War Lord grinned devilishly enjoying making a once formidable opponent squirm, knowing that Miester would dare not attack him unless he wanted his precious offspring's helms delivered to his quarters. "You don't underestimate bots; you're the great Meister, a master saboteur that has raised more of my bases to the ground than any other mech. You. _Can't_. Underestimate."

"My youngest is a Cyber Ninja." Meister said stiffly, his denta bared in a furious snarl as he reluctantly let go of the truth, "The black and gold bot took me by surprise when he triggered a memory."

Megatron laughed, a dark sound that echoed and rumbled around the high ceiling of the mine, "Sentimental fool. I don't want to hear of any more of your quarry getting away. Bring me the helms of that troublesome repair crew, and make sure it's messy. Those runts have caused me too much trouble as it is."

"As you wish… my lord." Meister replied with a stiff bow, his words tinted with acid as he turned on his pede and stalked out of the Decepticon War Lord's throne room.

_**===Cyberton= Iacon Towers=Mirage's Office=== **_

"What do you mean?" Jazz frowned in confusion as the blue and white noble watched him with an expectant gaze, the bot leaning forward, his elbow joints upon the desk, servos supporting his chin.

"This box is of Saboteur design and origin." Mirage said neutrally as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe remained silent, both probably arguing over the best course of action to take over their Twin bond. "I remember that Meister was always one to acquire certain object he shouldn't have, even after the War officially ended, it seemed that he kept up trading in these little trinkets. I have little knowledge of such boxes that require mech blood to open other than that they are programmed to the specific spark cells in specific mechs processed energon. Meister must have had you touch it when you had a cut some vorns ago before he went missing."

"Or he had a vile of Jazz's mech blood." Sideswipe suggested as Sunstreaker suddenly banged his fist on the desk, glaring daggers at his twin over the top of Jazz's helm when they broke optic contact. "And Sunny, you know that it could be the only option."

"He's not even contacted us once!" Sunstreaker hissed, his rage at the whole scenario winning him over. "I'm not running halfway across a galaxy to find someone who should have died when our Sire did!"

The red twin flared his armour as even Mirage sent the golden artist a sour look, "Sunstreaker." The noble said soothingly, "Need I remind you that I am also bonded to a lost ARK member?"

The rebellious fire that flared in the gold mech's optics guttered at the thought before he bowed his helm towards the noblemech, "Forgive my implications Mirage. I meant no disrespect."

Startled that his more volatile elder brother submitted so quickly, Jazz stroked over the thin groove of a half a pattern over the top of the box, before drawing his standard issue Elite Guard dagger which made Sideswipe instinctively reach out and yank the sharp object out of his 'sparkling' brother's servo much to the white and black mech's annoyance.

"Sideswipe." Jazz grumbled in a warning tone, holding his servo palm up to the red and black twin who gazed at him with indecision as Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge in question. Mirage sat quietly with a brooding air, his golden optics concentrated on the box sitting innocently before the brothers.

"You do this Jazz, and the world isn't going to be the same anymore." Sideswipe warned, "Our Carrier raised you in peace time. We were raised in battle."

"I may be peace raised." Jazz sighed as the dagger was returned to him carefully, "But I can fight, I was taught by Master Yoketron."

"I think that settles it." Mirage said with a heavy air as Jazz readied the dagger to slice his finger tip, "Whenever you are ready Jazz."

"Alright," the Cyber Ninja said gripping the handle tight as he sliced his finger, ignoring the sharp pain as a trickle of mech fluid dripped onto the cube. "Here goes nothing…"

The lid peeled back with a hiss of transforming metal, Mirage's optics widening in shock as a black fragment covered in light filaments resting on top of a data-pad were revealed.

"By the Allspark." Sideswipe gasped as they gazed at the contents. "It's a fragment of the ARK's processor!"

_**===Earth= Downtown Detroit=Autobot Base=Ratchet's Medbay=== **_

"I can't believe the fragger shot me!" Ratchet snarled and raved to himself as he paced the expanse of his impromptu medical bay, scattering his tools in a cascade of noise as he kicked a wheeled gurney out of the way.

"Ratchet shut up!" Bumblebee's voice echoed through one of the non-soundproofed walls, "Some bots are trying to get a decent recharge!"

"Mute it you scraplet or I'll come and knock you over the helm with my wrench!" he snapped back, slamming a tool against the wall, the submissive whine of the young yellow bot making him smugly smile, before he turned examine his tools for a lack of anything to do, contemplating his options as he smoothed a servo over they welds of his repairs.

Meister had always been a thorough bot, in every mission his mate, Mach Alert had sent him out on; he would always come back with the objective perfectly completed, even when he was reluctant to do the mission in the first place.

Megatron had obviously told him to kill any Autobot on sight in return for keeping the Twins and Jazz online, but as he thought about the wound he had recently welded back together on his shoulder, his processor threw up the image of Meister hesitating and recoiling from Prowl when the young Cyber Ninja had intervened what would have been the killing blow to Ratchet's spark and the almost mournful glance he had offered Ratchet as Megatron bellowed a retreat. "You've never failed an order given to you Meister." He pondered aloud with a frown, "So why did you fail this one…?"


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!

Please R&R!

(Sorry, I haven't updated in a while, I've been really busy... So I think this is where I say 'Sorry, I'm not dead... uh... Surprise!'. Anyway, enjoy!)

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><p><em><strong>===Cybertron=Iacon=The Towers=Mirage's Office=== <strong>_

"By the Allspark," Sideswipe gasped as Mirage slowly reached forward and picked up the fragment, almost as if he were afraid it would vanish into thin air. "It's a fragment of the ARK's processor."

"The ARK?" Jazz asked in confusion as he extracted the data-pad that fizzed with static before the turned off again, the battery spent.

"The ARK is the ship that we served on during the Great War and the shuttle that our Sire disappeared in..." Sunstreaker said softly as his little brother passed him the powerless data-pad, the golden mech running servos over it, almost as if he was remembering fond memories. "This is our Sire's data-pad. He was never seen without it."

"Meister must have found it, when he went on that solo mission a few hundred vorns back, before he went missing." Sideswipe speculated as Mirage examined the jet black fragment and the glowing light filaments before he put it back in the box with the data-pad that Sunstreaker dropped in, the lid folding over and sealing with a hiss of hidden hydraulics.

"So our Carrier wasn't just a casual bar owner was he?" Jazz asked, his voice strained with confusion and rising anger as Mirage reached forward and took the box, slotting it into the lockable drawer in the desk, hidden from view.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker winced, the ploy broken, before Mirage interrupted with a subtle cough off his vents, training his golden optics onto the young cyber ninja. "Twins, if you would see to updating Red Alert on these events, I will tell Jazz all he needs to know."

Rising without a word, the frontline Twins left the office, leaving Jazz to stare after them with a confused, betrayed frown.

"Jazz. Come walk with me." Mirage beckoned softly, rising from his chair and walking beside the quiet Cyber ninja as they traversed the expansive corridors of the noble's penthouse. "Ask me what you need to know."

"Who, exactly, was my Carrier?" the white and black youngster asked gravely as they reached the grand window overlooking the Crystal Gardens below, the blue and white noble pausing as he took in the glittering crystal that hummed and twirled in methane.

"He was my boss, mentor and one of my closest friends after the fall of the first Towers." Mirage said seriously, "Meister was the Third in Command of the whole Autobot faction and the Head of Special Operations."

"Like Longarm Prime is now." Jazz nodded in understanding, but frowned, "But why was I raised by my brothers and not my Carrier?"

"Meister… didn't understand where he stood after your Sire and our Commander presumably deactivated out in space. In a panic, he came to me begging to look after you and the Twin's when he inevitably followed Mach Alert into the Well of Allsparks. When he didn't deactivate due to bond-loss, he organised a solo mission to the last beaconed coordinates of the ARK in hopes of finding the reason for their disappearance, he left you with your brothers. He returned quiet and hollow. That was the recharge cycle he, like those on the ARK, vanished."

"But the Decepticon's must have him." Jazz suddenly pointed out. "Why else would a Decepticon Drone be in his old apartment?"

"Megatron never left anything to chance." Mirage said sourly, his faceplate contorting in distaste. "But if we can gather the right help, we may eventually find both the ARK and your Carrier."

"The right help?" Jazz asked, tilting his helm curiously as the noble gave him a grin, like a leering fox, and showed him to the lounge where Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were both trying to get a panicky Red Alert to calm down.

"Red Alert," Mirage rumbled, the red and white mech pausing in his rant, "Until we can find a mech better connected to the old crew, please just do your allocated job."

"Easy for you to say." The Security Director huffed moodily gesturing at the Twins snickering from behind the noble that had shoved them out of the way to see the screen better. "Troublesome Twins."

"Love you too Red!" Sideswipe giggled.

"Focus on the task, Red Alert." Mirage said stiffly, "Can you connect me to Wheeljack and Perceptor?"

"I could." The red and white mech nodded, with a thoughtful hum, "It'll be a while though, I'll have to get past the security network and trudge through all the business numbers."

"Good." Mirage nodded, "Please get back to me as soon as you can Red Alert."

_**===Cybertron=New Praxus= Central Precinct=== **_

Bluestreak sighed in aggravation as he finished his patrol, striding through the doors of the Enforcer station with a single minded ambition. The officers under his command greeted him with casual nods as he made his way through the precinct, many of the more troublesome criminals quieting in his presence, and Bluestreak had to struggle not to growl. Ever since the news had leaked into the general population that he had been a Great War sniper, criminals now cowered at his very image.

"I take it that the patrol didn't go well?" asked a visitor sitting outside his office, the crowd behind him going silent as they realised a Prime was in their midst.

"Longarm." Bluestreak acknowledged, his optics narrowing into a withering glare, he really had no time this orn for bureaucratic tape. "To whom do I owe the pleasure of your presence in my precinct?"

"Ultra Magnus'," the Head of Special Operations shrugged, his pleasant demeanour rubbing the ex-sharpshooter the wrong way. "It is a private matter."

"He knows I cannot come to Iacon. I am needed here." The grey Enforcer Commander snapped as he swiped his keycard over his office's lock, the door hissing open with a cheery beep. "And if this is about stationing Primes in New Praxus again…"

"Nothing of the sort," Longarm quickly hastened as they entered the pristine office and sat in the chairs, the Prime taking in the long image capture that stretched most of the wall, depicting an orange ship and a large gaggle of crew. "So the rumours are true. You are the Sniper Bluestreak of the Great War."

The glare that the grey mech offered the Prime was downright nasty and hostile. "Please refrain from digging where you are not wanted, Longarm Prime. Now to business, my schedule does not allow me much in the way of a break."

"Of course." The mech nodded, taking out a briefcase like object from his subspace and sliding it across the table. "I'm afraid it is old fashioned, but it decreases the chance of a hacker listening in." the pleasant natured Prime explained as an ancient computer model sprang open, much to Bluestreak's distaste. "Ultra Magnus stated that if you couldn't make it to the Prime meetings, you should use this."

"I am not a Prime." Bluestreak said, his temper soothing slightly as he turned to his personal terminal on his desk and finding a message from Sunstreaker sitting in his inbox which opened with a few taps on his keyboard and reading through it as he talked. "I am not needed at those meetings."

"You qualify as one." Longarm Prime argued, "Hence why you are required to be at the meetings, you represent New Praxus as its chief law enforcer, which is basically what a Prime does, yet you refused the title."

"That's because it is sacrilege to my belief." Bluestreak muttered, making sure that the Special Operation's Prime could not hear his rebellious words which would be turned on him at half a glance if he was reading the Prime across from him correctly. "Tell Ultra Magnus, I will attend the next meeting in person."

"Sir?" Longarm Prime looked startled, "But you just said your schedule…"

"It can wait," Bluestreak said lowly, interrupting the mech, "I realise that I have business to attend to in Iacon. Anyway, I don't trust these old terminals, bad memories from the War of one exploding when I was near it."

"Uhh… yes sir." Longarm nodded, tilting his helm curiously as Bluestreak subconsciously massaged his wrist plating, remembering a time when his whole servo had been blown off aboard a bright orange ship, and in the Enforcer Commander's distraction, he didn't notice the red circle on the Prime's forehead glow Decepticon red. "I'll tell Ultra Magnus right away."


End file.
